


Someone Tell Me, When Is It My Turn?

by lostwithoutmyanchor (mysourwolf)



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Anal Sex, Bounty Hunter Peter Hale, Fake/Pretend Relationship, M/M, School Reunion
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-04
Updated: 2017-08-04
Packaged: 2018-12-09 09:13:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,529
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11666115
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mysourwolf/pseuds/lostwithoutmyanchor
Summary: Hopelessly single and broke, there's no way Stiles is attending his 10 year high school reunion. Only he didn't count on Scott RSVP'ing for both of them and Peter proposing. Sort of.





	Someone Tell Me, When Is It My Turn?

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Skystrong (Copperspecks)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Copperspecks/gifts).



> Thank you so much to my lovely beta and of course to Specks for that lovely prompt (though I twisted it a little). I hope you will like it!
> 
> This was the original prompt:  
> Scott puppy eye'd Stiles into RSVPing for their 10 year high school reunion. Scott may have a lot to show for the past ten years, but Stiles doesn't. So now, what Stiles needs is a plan.

Stiles stared morosely down to his legs, watching his delicious, frothy coffee seep into his uniform pants. He made no move to get up and just kept staring while thinking it was a fitting course of fucked-up-ness in an already fucked up morning. Eventually though, he threw his paper cup away and went to the restroom, trying to get his pants at least dry if not clean. It took ten minutes of rubbing and patting before he gave up and just rested his face against the tiles. Their coolness were gently easing the pain in his cheekbone where he had collided with a street post this morning.

When Stiles came back out, he saw a man slumped over the front desk with his hands cuffed on his back. His cheek was squashed against the polished wood, held down by strong hands. Stiles’ gaze trailed over those hands, to tattooed arms, upward to broad shoulders in a tight Henley, a thick, tattooed neck, and a gorgeously stubbled face.

Seeing the half-smile and beautiful blue eyes made Stiles feeling somewhat happy for the first time that day. With a little wave he greeted, “Hey, Peter.”

“Hello, Stiles,” Peter drawled, smile deepening for a moment before it slid off. Bending over the man lying on the desk, Peter growled, “Stay.” Then he let go and came toward Stiles. The intense gaze made Stiles’ heart beat wildly and the gentle fingers gripping his chin didn’t help either.

“What happened?” Peter asked, voice dark and sharp.

Stiles chuckled weakly and shrugged. “I had a misunderstanding. With a street pole.”

Peter’s gaze softened as he gave Stiles a quick smile before he settled into his usual teasing smirk. He let go of Stiles’ face and nodded towards the man on the counter.

“Are you going to take this fine gentleman off my hands?” he asked.

Stiles tried to shake of the feeling of Peter's fingers. As always, he had a hard time hiding his ridiculously huge crush on the man.

To deflect from his probably bright red face, he rolled his eyes and moved to sit behind the desk. “Only ‘cause you’re asking so nicely. Name?”

He typed dutifully as Peter stated the name of the man and how he had failed to appear to court this morning. At that Stiles gave a low whistle. “You work fast.”

With a shrug Peter leaned his hip against the desk. “Only when it’s fits the situation.”

Peter’s 'client' stirred and tried to get up but Peter just banged his head back onto the desk.

“Jeez,” Stiles hissed and moved a bit away from both of them. 

It didn’t seem to bother Peter who just leaned even more towards Stiles, giving him an exaggerated leer before he drawled, “I assure you I can go very slow when required.”

Stiles shivered. “Stop mock flirting when there’s a wanted fugitive lying between us.”

Peter threw his head back and laughed, rich and deep. “I don’t know how you made that sound sexy.”

Rubbing the back of his neck, Stiles rolled his eyes to distract from his blush.

“Did not,” he said childishly. Then he reached out to call one of the deputies on duty, feeling Peter's eyes on him the whole time.

“Heyyy, JP. Got some dude here, who failed to appear to court and skipped bail. Peter Hale brought him in and I need you to come to the front desk, to put him into holding while I sort out another court date.”

“Don’t call me that,” came the reply through the phone followed by, “be right there”.

“Parrish seems to be in a good mood,” Peter stated sarcastically when Stiles had hung up again.

Stiles made a face and patted the wet spot on his uniform. “Yeah, well, I almost spilled my coffee on him earlier and he’s been grumpy every since. Of course if I had known that I would eventually spill it on myself, I wouldn’t have made that last second save for him.”

They were interrupted by Parrish unlocking the door that lead into the back to the holding cells. The deputy came up to them and gave Peter a nod.

“Hale.”

“Parrish.”

“Didn’t know you bothered with small time criminals like him. Barely worth the reward.”

Peter shrugged nonchalantly and pressed the man’s head even harder against the desk.

“I don’t like the crime he’s on trial for,” he said, his voice curiously flat.

Both Parrish and Stiles looked at him inquiringly but then a hard look came over Peter’s face and Stiles was sure where this was going.

“Attempted arson.”

Stiles swallowed thickly and watched Parrish grimacing before the deputy grabbed the man at the cuffs and left shoulder to take him over from Peter. The man was led away and soon Stiles was alone with Peter.

Even though it was early in the day, Stiles didn’t expect anyone to come in anytime soon. So, he began to fidget nervously, as he did every time when he was alone with Peter, unsure how to act to avoid putting Peter off. However these thoughts made him even more anxious and he quickly printed out a receipt for Peter to prove him bringing in a fugitive. Then he meticulously signed and stamped it before handing it to Peter.

“There you go, Mr. Bounty Hunter,” he said, practically vibrating off his seat.

Peter snorted and took the slip. “I prefer private investigator. But you know my official title is ‘consultant’.”

Suddenly Stiles was overcome with a sense of hopelessness. Of course Peter had an official title. Because he was a successful business owner even if it was a somewhat shady business. And what did Stiles have? Nothing. He was barely more than an assistant in a uniform. Not even allowed to carry a gun until he got his license. Not that Peter needed a gun. Or at least Stiles had never seen one on him.

The change of his mood must've been visible on his face because once again Peter leaned in close.

"Stiles, what's going on?" he asked firmly.

With a groan Stiles slumped back, half sliding down his desk chair. "This is the worst day!" he stated and then jumped up again, starting to count on his fingers.

"First, while searching for something edible in the freezer, I found out that my dad keeps a hidden stash of full-fat bacon in there." Stiles' voice was more than indignant while he talked, wriggling his fingers in front of Peter's face.

"Second, when I was out running with Scott this morning, I ran into a street pole because Scott shocked me with the news of him going to our high school reunion." He pointed to his bruised cheek.

"Third, after Scott gave me his trademark puppy eyes, I actually thought about going with him to the reunion for a second." Now he sounded completely scandalized and his fingers wriggled even more frantically.

"Fourth, I came here and found out that I used the wrong forms for my paperwork yesterday and had to do it all over again." A wide sweep of his arm indicated several stacks of paper on the desk.

"And fifth! Fifth, Peter! Fifth, I spilled my lovely, very expensive, barely consumed coffee over my cleanest uniform because I'm a clumsy, useless idiot. Can you believe that?" Both of Stiles' hands were waving around wildly by now and Peter had to duck out of the way twice to avoid getting hit while he moved around the desk to Stiles' side. When the stream of words finally dried out, Peter gently grabbed Stiles' wrists and held them in his hands, thumbs resting on the pulse points.

"Breathe, Stiles," he ordered, managing to sound only slightly amused.

Without thinking, Stiles followed his advice and took a few deep breaths. Then he just let his forehead drop against Peter's shoulder and whined.

Peter laughed and cupped the back of Stiles' neck. "I admit your day could have gone better but we both know this is far from the worst."

"I know," Stiles replied and exhaled loudly. "It's just… I can't go, you know? To high school reunion."

"Oh? Why not?" Peter asked and pulled back to see the expression on Stiles' face, trying to judge the mood. He seemed hopeless.

"Why not? Why not?" Stiles huffed out, beginning to get agitated again. Peter just raised an eyebrow at his antics and was rewarded with a pout.

"Because they will all make fun of me. What did I do the last ten years? College? No. Army? No. Helped feeding people in third world countries? No. Got a medical degree? No. Won a prize for my math or musical skills? No. Opened a restaurant? No. Built a house? No. Made freaking cute little babies? No."

With more and more dread filling him, Stiles counted out the achievements of his fellow class mates that he knew of, and then the worst thought hit him. "And am I married? In a relationship? No! I'm so tragically single it's not even funny anymore. Do you know for how long I haven't had sex? It's been a year, Peter. A year!"

By the end Stiles was nearly shouting and only stopped because Peter was pressing a firm, warm hand against his mouth. Peter's other hand squeezed Stiles' neck, making him relax a little.

"Poor boy," he said teasingly and felt Stiles squeak under his hand. "A year is a long time. No wonder you're always so tense." Stiles rolled his eyes at him, but Peter smirked and kept going. "You really should get laid before you go to this reunion."

With a huff Stiles pried Peter's hand from his mouth and grumbled, "Yeah, like that's going to happen. And who said I was going? Because I'm not. No way in hell."

Peter grinned at him mischievously and took Stiles' hand to press it against his own chest. "What if you would be going with your brand new, smoking hot and extremely successful fiancé?"

Stiles looked down to their entwined hands and swallowed thickly as his heart started to race. How had he not noticed how close they were standing and how much Peter was touching him? Oh, right, he had been having a temper tantrum worthy of a three-year old. "What, wait?" he said absently, his brain trying to get back on track.

With a sigh Peter stepped back, causing Stiles to make grabby hands at his chest. "I'm offering to be your partner for the reunion. Although you don't really need it because despite your lack of titles, prizes, doctorates, houses and offspring you are an amazing person. But it might distract your moronic class mates and help you feel less lonely. Of course if you have a better offer…?"

"No! I don't," Stiles said quickly but then blinked. "No, wait. I don't want to go. I mean I really appreciate your offer, and did you say I was amazing?" Stiles lost track of his thoughts for a moment but then continued, "Really, Peter, I'm not going."

Peter scoffed and let go of Stiles to lean against the front desk. "You said Scott will go. And he wants you to go as well. Tell me, when was the last time you said no to Scott. And followed through with it."

"Ugh!" Stiles let out a frustrated grunt and threw himself down into his desk chair. "Never? I think. Nope, I really can't remember. That's not fair, I'm a grown man. I should be able to resist my best friend's puppy eyes."

"It's a talent," Peter joked lightly. He was about to say something else, when his mobile phone rang. After picking up and a quick "Hold on", he turned back to Stiles. "Let me know the time and date, honey," he drawled and gave him a wink before he turned and walked out.

Stiles stared after him, his mouth hanging slightly open while his eyes were glued to Peter's round butt, squeezed into tight gray jeans.

*

"Dude! Peter offered to go with me," Stiles shouted when he flopped down next to Scott on his friend's couch.

"Dude! What?" Scott asked in confusion, trying to get over the shock of Stiles' sudden appearance while furiously maneuvering Princess Peach over Rainbow Road.

Stiles grinned and leaned in close. "I said Peter offered to go with me," he repeated slowly.

Scott sighed and gave up, pressing the pause button before he turned around to him.

"Like on a date?" he asked, still not sure what was happening.

"Noooo," Stiles groaned and threw himself backwards. "Like to the reunion, pretending to be my fiancé."

"Fiancé!" Scott called out and sat up straight. "He wants to marry you!"

With a grimace Stiles shook his head. "Nah, Scotty. He's just being nice, going as my alibi date, you know."

Scott rolled his eyes and huffed. "Peter is not nice, Stiles. Or well, not to anyone but you anyway."

Taking a deep breath, Stiles was about to call bullshit but then realized that Scott was right. Sure, Peter was teasing him a lot and was often amused over Stiles' antics but he was never outright mean as he was with many other people. Stiles had even seen him talk very harshly to his own family that one time when his nephew had gotten himself arrested. And of course everyone knew how brutal the man could be when he was working, taking down people with barely concealed violence and hardly any consideration or mercy.

"Okay, you might be right," he grumbled and gave Scott an exaggerated pout.

Scott just grinned and patted Stiles knee. "So. Do you want to go with him?"

Despite his mind going over the conversation again and again all day long, Stiles couldn't decide if getting Peter for one evening was worth the trouble of going to the reunion. 

"Yeah? I mean, yes, I really, really want to go out with him. But there?" Stiles shuddered.

"Dude, I told you this morning that it can't possibly be as bad as you're imagining it," Scott said, trying to encourage him.

Rolling his eyes Stiles dramatically threw his hands in the air. "What are you talking about, Scott? You do remember how they all thought they were better than us, right? I mean, you're amazing. You're married, Allison is pregnant and you'll be a veterinarian soon. But me? Instead of college loans I'm paying off bills for my dad's hospital stay and my psychotherapy."

Scott grimaced, but knew better than to respond. Ever since he had started to make some money, he had offered Stiles to help pay the bills, but his friend had turned him down every time, even when Scott offered him a loan without interest. Watching Stiles talking himself into a panic attack, he decided to try and change the subject.

"How is your dad by the way?" he asked innocently.

As predicted Stiles' rant came to a halt and he started to beam. "Good. Like really well. The last surgery really seems to have made a difference, you know. And he has worked so hard with his physical therapist. They're thinking he might finally be able to go back to working full time soon. Of course no shift work and only behind the desk but still. You can imagine how happy he is."

"I totally can. I'm so happy for you guys." Scott grinned widely and pulled Stiles into an embrace. They held onto each other tightly and Scott heard a faint whisper. "Couldn't have done it without you, bro."

***

The next day Stiles stepped through the elegant glass doors of ‘Hale Consultants’, armed with a pink box of donuts. He stopped at the front desk, his eyes wide.

“Jeez, Derek, did your clothes shrink in the washing?” he said, half-shocked, half-amused.

Behind the glass-and-steel counter Derek Hale glared at him, tugging on his skin-tight white button-down shirt.

“Shut up, Stiles. Peter makes me wear it,” he grumbled, fingering the button at his throat.

“Well, then Peter is a freaking genius.”

“Why, thank you, Stiles. Though, I am hurt that you’re flirting with my nephew only a day after our engagement.”

Grinning, Stiles turned around to Peter who was also wearing a tight, white button-down shirt with dark gray suit pants.

“Wait, what? Engagement?” Derek said, but Stiles was barely hearing him. Instead he stared at Peter, blinking a few times while he tried to swallow.

“Uh, you… um. Donut?” he stammered, holding out the box.

Peter gave him a wink and opened the pink lid. “With sprinkles, my favorite.”

“I know. You stole all the sprinkled ones I bought last week when I graciously let you get a coffee from the kitchen at the station.”

“Stiles,” Peter said teasingly. “Surely you didn’t really think I would drink from a drip machine? No, I only take a brew from freshly ground, fully organic Arabica beans or else the coffee won’t pass my lips.” He laughed at Stiles indignation, knowing full well it was Stiles who had brewed the drip coffee, and took a bite out of the pastry.

Stiles mock pouted as he watched Peter chew, utterly fascinated how the man managed to eat so elegantly, not a sprinkle or bit of sugar frosting falling down on his pristine shirt. When Stiles ate a donut his whole body looked like a snowy battlefield afterwards.

“Excuse me,” Derek said a little louder this time. “Engagement? What the heck?”

Blushing bright red, Stiles put the box down on the counter and grabbed Peter’s arm. Half-turned to Derek, he said, “I’ll explain later. Please don’t tell your sisters. I will never live this down.” He quickly ushered Peter into his office and closed the door.

Feeling generous, Peter let Stiles guide him, but when they were alone he snorted. “You know Derek can’t keep a secret for the life of him. Not anymore.”

“Yes, you told me the whole sordid tale,” Stiles said with a grimace, remembering the circumstances of the fire. “Which makes it even worse that you’re whoring him out by making him wear tight shirts.”

“Oh, please. He’s always wearing his beloved Henleys, that look like they’re painted on. He only hates the button-downs because they don’t stretch as much.”

Stiles sighed and mentally shoved Derek to the side. “So, what I wanted to talk to you about…”

“Engagement party? Picking out rings? The wedding date? Oh, I know! Dinner with your father where you officially introduce me.”

Annoyed at Peter’s amusement, Stiles walked around the huge desk, glass and steel again, and sat down in Peter’s desk chair.

“Apparently your life is so void of entertainment that you have to make fun of this, but sure, enjoy yourself,” he said, this time sulking for real.

Raising an eyebrow, Peter followed him, half-sitting down onto the desk. “You know I’m only making fun of you because your pout is so cute,” he teased again but his face had gone serious. He reached over Stiles’ legs to the desk drawer next to him and pulled it open. Then he took out a little box and held it up to Stiles, watching him closely.

Once again Stiles was caught up with staring and blinking and desperately trying to swallow, so Peter opened the box for him with a flick of his thumb. With a gasp, Stiles carefully reached out to touch the silvery gleaming bands.

“Is that real silver?” he asked breathlessly.

Peter laughed quietly and shook his head. “White gold actually.”

“Gold? You spent a fortune on decoy wedding rings.”

“They're called partner rings, honey. You didn’t think I would wed you without throwing at least a few diamonds into the mix, did you?”

Stiles blushed and dropped his hands into his lap. "I don't know if I'm worth all that."

"But I do," Peter said firmly and took out one of the rings before he reached for Stiles' hand. Without giving Stiles a chance to protest he slid the ring in place and smiled.

"See? It even fits," he said smugly.

With his mouth slightly open, Stiles looked at the ring and shook his head. "How did you make it fit?"

"I have my ways," Peter teased lightly. Stiles rolled his eyes but then his gaze came back to the ring.

"I really want to take you up on this but I'm kind of afraid it will blow up in my face."

Peter held out his hand and the box. "How? No one can prove that we're not the real deal."

Momentarily distracted from the topic Stiles watched Peter's face, wondering if he was imagining the slightly anxious expression. He hesitated a moment but then just couldn't stop himself to reach for the ring and Peter's hand. The man's fingers felt nice in his own. Strong but well-groomed, digits almost as long as Stiles'. Before he could change his mind, he slipped the ring onto Peter's finger.

It was silent for a few moments and neither seemed to know what to say, but then Peter cleared his throat.

"Are you worried about Scott? You told me once he's not a very good liar."

Stiles laughed and remembered that occasion. Peter had come into the station to file a report and found Scott trying to make plans with Stiles for the evening without letting on that it was a surprise birthday party for him. He was especially fond of the memory as there had been a little package on his desk the next day. Inside were a few old first editions of Batman comics, all carefully sealed in plastic. There was no birthday card but a pink post-it saying ‘Happy birthday -Peter’. Stiles had half hoped that finally their playful, pretend flirting was turning into something real but when he texted Peter ‘thank you’ he only received a generic ‘you’re welcome’. Okay, maybe he should’ve taken the opportunity to invite Peter for dinner. Or just lunch. Even coffee would have been a start. But then his father had gotten the news that yet another surgery was necessary and Stiles had grudgingly pushed Peter back down on his agenda.

“Penny for your thoughts,” Peter said, interrupting Stiles in his musings.

Shaking his head a little, Stiles gave him a smile. “I’m thinking we should celebrate our engagement with dinner.”

“Well, I’m always game for a good meal. But Derek might be offended that he’s not invited.”

“If we invite Derek, we should also invite his sisters,” Stiles suggested.

Peter made a face. “You’ve never had a meal with the three of them. Believe me, you don’t want that.” After a pause he added with a smirk, “but we could invite our father.”

Stiles shuddered, wondering what his dad would say to the whole situation. “Why don’t we wait for that until you get me that diamond?”

“If that’s all that it takes…” Peter teased him.

“How about we take this slow and stick with just the two of us?” Stiles asked quickly, sounding final.

And to his relief Peter seemed willing to concede. “Anything you want, dear.”

With a nod, Stiles stood up and dragged a hand through his hair. “Okay, then. Pick me up at eight? I’ll make reservations. My address is…”

Peter laughed and stood as well. “I know your address, Stiles.”

“Okay, creeper,” Stiles replied but somehow he didn’t feel put out at all. He hesitated for a moment but then quickly leaned in and gave Peter a half-hug before rushing out.

*

“Scotty, you have to help me. I don’t know what to wear,” Stiles shouted, looking at himself in the little skype window on his phone.

Scott stared back at him helplessly. “How am I supposed to help you? I can barely dress myself in the mornings.”

Rolling his eyes, Stiles waved him off. “I mean you have to help me by getting me Allison. She didn’t pick up her phone.”

“She was just taking a shower, wait.” Scott seemed to walk through their apartment and then a door opened. He turned the phone towards Allison who stood in front of the mirror, only wearing a towel from her chest down.

“Hey, honey, what- Stiles? What the hell?”

“Please, Allison! Goddess of all that is good and holy, please help me find an outfit for my weird fake-engagement-maybe-maybe-not-date with Peter.”

Sighing, Allison took the phone and gave in. “Fine, you have five minutes. Show me what you were considering.”

Stiles showed her his options and they finally decided on black skinny jeans and a simple light blue button-down.

“Are you sure this isn’t too casual?” Stiles whined.

“He’ll love it, Stiles. Just put some gel in your hair and you’re good to go.”

Allison smiled at him angelically and then resolutely ended the skype-call.

Stiles laughed despite himself and put on the clothes they had picked out. He even used a little gel but wasn’t really sure if it suited him. Even after all these years he wished back the simplicity of the buzz cut but he knew he would look like a sixteen year old kid again and no one would treat him like an adult. They barely did so now.

Pushing that thought away, he checked his watch and just as he saw that it was eight o’clock, he already heard the doorbell ring.

He hurried down and opened the door, stepping outside.

“Hey, Peter,” Stiles said and before he could continue, he was pulled into a full-body embrace and helplessly melted against Peter's broad chest. It felt so nice and secure that he didn’t move away until Peter gently disentangled them and stepped back.

“You good to go?” the man asked and Stiles nodded enthusiastically.

The car ride went quickly while Peter told a story from the office. Stiles wasn’t sure if Peter could sense his nervousness, but the telling of Derek dealing with a little old lady, who was looking for her lost terrier, was hilarious and sufficiently distracting. At the restaurant, Peter walked close by his side all the way from the car to where they were seated and it must've been clear to anyone that this was not just a casual meal between friends.

Sitting down with a small sigh, Stiles reached for the menu.

"Are you alright?" Peter asked, looking almost uncertain.

Stiles gave him a sad smile and shrugged. "Yeah, I'm fine. It's just… I missed this."

"This?" Peter asked and frowned in confusion.

Making a wide sweep with his arm, Stiles nodded. "This. This sort-of-date-like atmosphere. Going out with people who are not Scott or Allison. Or my dad, though he couldn't go out much either. Just, you know, the excitement of something special."

Peter's face went soft and he returned the smile. "If I had known you were this deprived I would've taken you out much sooner."

"I wish. But I doubt I would've had the time," Stiles replied, heart beat racing a little at the thought of more date-like outings with Peter.

They were interrupted by the waiter, who took their drinks order, and then decided to check the menu. Since the place didn't have any curly fries, Stiles ordered a pasta dish and waited for Peter to give his own order.

When they were finally alone again, Peter leaned back and looked at him inquiringly.

"So, tell me why you didn't have any time to go out in the past few years."

Squirming in his seat, Stiles rolled his eyes, wondering why Peter suddenly insisted on making him uncomfortable.

"I'm sure you know why, Mr. Private-Investigator-slash-Consultant," Stiles said mulishly.

"Oh, I do. But I would like to hear it from you." Peter sounding teasing, but also genuinely interested, so Stiles shrugged.

"Well, after high school, I went to college. Then in my second year, dad got shot during a routine call." He had to pause, as always when he told someone that part. But eventually he continued, his voice sounding hoarse. "He tried to jump out of the way, but the bullet still hit him in the shoulder and did a lot of nerve damage. He had to go through a lot of surgeries. Of course I came back home from college, the moment I got notified and I've been here ever since. The first two years I stayed with dad full time. After one surgery, the wound got infected and he could barely do anything himself. I just couldn't let him be alone. After that I was just working two or three crappy jobs at all times. The bills for the hospital and continued physical therapy for dad where just too high. Even after I used my college money."

Peter frowned at that. "Wouldn't your father's insurance pay for that?"

"Oh, they did. At first." Stiles sounded bitter. "But only for the initial injury. After the second surgery, dad should've been okay. But, as I said, the wound got infected. And everything after that… well, we were on our own."

Stiles paused and took a deep breath, dragging a hand through his hair, forgetting that he had wanted to look his best for Peter.

"And… and then there were the bills for my therapist," he breathed out and waited for Peter's reaction. But the man just looked at him, waiting, until he eventually lifted one eyebrow.

"Stiles, I'm the last person who would judge you for needing a therapist," Peter said quietly. "I even had one myself for a while."

"Oh, okay." Stiles nodded, reminded of Peter's own trauma. "Anyway, um, I went to see one because I could hardly leave the house in the beginning. I was just so afraid to leave my dad, you know. And I barely slept during the first year and not really much more after that. So, eventually dad insisted I go see someone. And it helped, after a while. But it took a long time and a lot of billable hours. Well, after that I began to work my ass off to pay our debts until…" Stiles paused and laughed ruefully. "Until about a year ago. You know Olga, right? The sheriff's old secretary at the station?"

"You mean the love of my life? Yes, we were well-acquainted. Unfortunately I missed her retirement party for a job out of state."

Stiles grinned at the thought of Peter flirting with the old Polish secretary. "Yes, her. Well, dad thought that it was time for me to get a job that I actually liked and where I could maybe study up to become an official deputy. At first I refused because it paid much less than my other jobs together and the time I saved, I would need for studying. We fought about it for over a week."

"What made you change your mind?" Peter asked thoughtfully.

Looking away, Stiles shrugged. "My dad, he… he started to beg me to do it. He said it was time I began to live my life again."

"Do you regret it?"

"Not really? I mean, sure I feel bad every time I see my dad's bank statement but no, I don't think I regret it."

"Well, I'm glad you took the job. This way I get to see you whenever I have to pass by the station," Peter said and winked playfully.

Stiles blushed but grinned back. "It's not exactly a hardship for me either what with you and your family being so unfairly good-looking. In fact it's a highlight for everyone at the station when one of you comes by for your consulting business."

"Yes," Peter drawled. "That's exactly why I hired my nieces and my nephew. Their good-looks."

"Aww, come on. I know you complain about them a lot but I'm sure you secretly love them," Stiles said.

"Very secretly maybe." Peter laughed.

They got interrupted by the waiter bringing their food and Stiles was glad the topic had moved away from his depressing life.

It was quiet while they ate. Usually Stiles would just keep talking, but he tried to be on his best behavior and that included half-way decent table manners. At least the silence wasn't awkward, he thought gratefully.

After they were finished and their table was cleared, Stiles leaned back and patted his stomach. "That was great. But I hope you have room left. You have to try their homemade ice cream. It's always a treat when dad takes me here for my birthday."

"Oh? You come here with your dad."

"Yeah, we…" Stiles trailed off and gave Peter a sad smile. "We used to come here with my mom for each of our birthdays. And we never broke the tradition apart from… her last birthday. And my own, when… dad was in the hospital."

Peter reached out and gently took one of Stiles' hands that had been picking at his napkin on the table. "Having been on the other side of a hospital bed for a long time, I can't begin to imagine how you must have felt. I think you're very brave for how you were holding up."

Stiles felt his eyes tear up and quickly squeezed them shut. He felt anything but brave but didn't feel like arguing with Peter just now. Through his closed eyes he heard Peter ordering dessert and when they were alone again he looked back up.

"Thanks, I think, "he said softly and cleared his throat. "So, why did you decide to open up a consulting business after your recovery?"

"Hmm, a couple of reasons really," Peter began. "First of all, neither Derek nor the girls were interested in joining the family law firm that I had built with my sister. And with Talia gone, I had no desire to go back to work by myself," Peter said, his gaze fixed to their entwined hands.

"But I needed something to do and so did the children. I think that time after my recovery, where we all worked with my PI friend Keith Mars to gather enough evidence against Kate and Gerard, really brought us together as a family. And we were good at it, too. So, after the Argents were prosecuted, I did some thinking. I had Keith show us all the ropes and everything else that we could learn from him and changed the firm to a consulting business. Laura is doing the accounting while she's getting her financial degree. Derek is now manning the front desk full time. And Cora is at the academy, trying to figure out if she wants to become a real cop."

"I envy her," Stiles said, sighing a bit. But mostly he was distracted by Peter holding his hand and opening up to him. They had always gotten along well but he hadn't expected quite this level of companionship.

Squeezing Stiles' hand lightly, Peter said, "There are more ways than one to become a cop or deputy, you know that."

"Yeah, I do. It's just… it would've been nice to go the traditional way."

"Why? Not even your father went the traditional way," Peter said, his eyebrows raised.

Stiles opened his mouth to reply but then he really thought about the comment. "Wow, you're right. He didn't. He joined the army first. I never saw it that way."

Smiling smugly, Peter nodded and then took his hand away. Before Stiles could complain, he saw their waiter with the dessert. "Oooh, ice cream."

*

"How was it?" Scott asked into the phone while he gave a one-handed foot rub to a very pregnant Allison.

"Bro, it was amazing. He was amazing. We were talking so much. I've never seen him so open and honest, you know? It's usually always that smooth flirting or mock insulting with him. But we really talked last night," Stiles shouted into the phone.

Scott laughed and held the phone a bit away from himself. “That’s great, dude. I’m very happy for you. Does that mean you’re going to the reunion?”

Stiles made choking voices over the phone before continuing to shout. “Stupid reunion. Just because I might have a sort-of-date doesn’t mean I actually want to go. Anyway, we talked so much last night and the food was great. Then he drove me home and even opened my car door for me. I mean who does that? Does that mean we’re dating? I mean-”

“Stiles,” Scott tried interrupt but Stiles just kept talking.

“-usually that means dating, right? He didn’t try to kiss me, though. So, what does that mean? We did hug, though. Very, very long. It was so nice and ugh, he smelled so good. I swear, Scotty, I will never make fun of you again when you tell me all about how Allison smells like sunshine and roses.”

“Hey!” Allison shouted and threw a small pillow at her husband.

Scott laughed and raised a hand in surrender. “I meant it in a good way. And it’s lemons and roses, by the way,” he said, first to Allison and then into the phone.

“Anyway, Stiles, listen!”

“What, Scotty-bro? What is it?”

“Will you go to the reunion or not? Because I kind of already accepted for all of us.”

Scott had expected another outbreak over the phone but it was suddenly completely quiet.

“Uh-oh,” Allison whispered in the background and Scott frowned. “Stiles? Are you still there?”

“Yes, Scott, I’m here.” Stiles’ voice sounded bleak. “I don’t know why you want us to go so badly. We hated them all and they hated us.”

Sighing, Scott leaned back into the couch cushions. “Stiles, I didn’t hate them. At least not all of them. Actually, I even liked some of the lacrosse team when I finally made it into the reserves. And not all of them made fun of us or anything.”

“No,” Stiles said harshly. “But they didn’t help us either when others made fun of us. Or of Erica for having a seizure and stuff. Or of Boyd for being poor and of Isaac when his dad ticked out again. Or of Kira for being super awkward when she moved here.”

“Well, at least we can see Isaac and Kira again. They and I were kinda friends in the end, you know."

“Oh, I know,” Stiles said, remembering the jealousy for Scott’s new friends back then.

“Come on, Stiles."

Stiles grumbled to himself but he couldn’t help seeing Scott’s puppy eyes in his mind. “Fine, damnit. I’ll go. With Peter. But I won’t be held responsible for any shouting matches I get into.”

“Awesome,” Scott shouted into the phone and fist-pumped. “Mission accomplished.”

“Great,” Allison said, after they had hung up. Then she wriggled her toes at Scott. “Now back to these.”

***

With his hands buried deeply in the pockets of his jeans, Stiles was waiting in front of a clothing store, staring doubtfully up to the sign over the shop.

“Don’t look so gloomy, kitten.” A voice came from behind him and made him spin around.

“Peter,” he called out and felt himself smile effortlessly. The man stepped up and hugged him tightly before leading him into the store.

“Are you sure about this?” Stiles asked, looking around. He didn’t even dare to look at the prices even though Peter had promised him that he would be able to find something affordable. Stiles hadn’t even been planning on wearing a suit, but Peter had insisted after Stiles told him Scott had already RSVP’d for them.

“I’m very sure, Stiles. This will be good for you.”

And it was. Not only did he learn a lot about fashion when Peter led him through the aisles, explaining about colors and cuts, what was in at the moment and what was a timeless classic or even a timeless no-go. No, he also learned a lot about Peter’s body. How it felt when they stood close together. When Peter’s hands brushed over his arms, smoothing out the suit jackets. Or when the man’s clever fingers dipped into the nape of his neck and righted the collar of a shirt. How the fingers made his skin tingle when Peter closed the little buttons of the shirt on Stiles’ wrists.

Being this close under Peter’s scrutiny felt electrifying and exciting. For the first time in a long while, Stiles feel seen.

Of course it helped a lot that he liked what he saw in the mirror. Well, some things he had tried on hadn’t been his thing or looked odd on him, but the final product was absolutely worth it.

A plain, black suit with a slim cut that was modern enough that, according to Peter, Stiles didn’t even need to wear a tie. Underneath he wore a simple, white shirt. Sitting a little more snug than he would have picked for himself, but that built a perfect combination with the suit.

“I have to admit, you’re really good at this.”

Peter smirked but he seemed honestly pleased. “Well, I have been wearing suits to Sunday dinner since I was an infant.”

“What? Why? That’s horrible,” Stiles said, but secretly thought that baby-Peter in a suit must have looked adorable.

“My father insisted. He said it was to remind us that we’re not animals.” Peter laughed quietly, a wistful look on his face. “After he died, Talia became… the head of the family. She loosened the dress code a little, but by then I had already started law school and wore suits a lot of the time anyway.”

Before he could help himself, Stiles blurted out, “Man, your dad sounds weird. Oh, shit. I’m sorry.”

Waving him off, Peter put a hand on Stiles’ lower back. “He was rather unique, yes. We didn’t get along very well but he tried his best. I admit, I wasn’t the easiest child,” he explained and lead Stiles back to the changing rooms. “Now get dressed, so you can pay.”

Stiles grinned and opened the curtain of the cubicle. “Fine, but don’t think you’ll win the ‘difficult child’ contest. I’ll totally beat you in that.”

*

When he paid, Stiles remembered their earlier conversation over the phone. "You basically have two options, Stiles," Peter had told him. "First, you let me pick a high class brand suit and pay for it. Or we can get something a little more mundane and practical, that will suit your wallet, pun intended."

Stiles had snorted into the phone but he was unable to decide. "I don't want to let you pay for it, like a sugar daddy. But I kinda want to make an entrance, you know."

"Sweetheart," Peter's voice had been amused but it also sounded serious, rather than teasing. "I would be happy to give you some sugar. But let me assure you, you will make an entrance either way."

Now Stiles hadn't been exactly sure what Peter had meant by that and he had been a little too chicken to ask, in case it was something like 'you hyperactive klutz are hard to miss when you literally fall into a room'. Instead he had simply said that he would take the more low key option and pay for himself. Which he now did, hoping the interest on his credit card wouldn't pile up too high before he could pay it off.

"You really don't have to worry, Stiles. You can trust my fashion sense. I'm never wrong," Peter stated confidently as he opened the door for Stiles to walk through, carrying the huge paper bag with the elegantly printed store name on the side.

"Oh, really? Is that why your shirts are always a number too small?" Stiles teased him, as they walked to their cars.

As Stiles opened the trunk of his jeep to put the bag inside, and Peter theatrically pressed a hand to his heart. "You wound me," he whined but then gave him a wink. "Besides, I'm quite sure you like it."

Stiles blushed and tried to shrug it off as he closed the trunk. "Yeah, well, I think you like that I like it."

"Oh, I do," Peter stated readily and Stiles was left to wonder what he could possibly reply to that. Was this still their usual mock-flirting? Or did Peter actually like him? Or was he just getting into the spirit of their pretend engagement?

"By the way, what did Derek say about not being invited to our dinner?" he said, trying to deflect, as he leaned against the car.

Hands casually buried in his suit pants, Peter stood on the sidewalk, looking down at him with a grin. "He said it was fine, as long as he would be invited to the wedding."

Snorting, Stiles tried to straighten up and walk around to the driver's side. Somehow he needed to get away and think by himself for a while. It had been an odd day what with Peter being so nice to him and showering him with compliments while he tried on the suit. Almost like a real relationship.

It seemed as if Peter could sense his dilemma and wanted to make it worse. He leaned in, no longer grinning. "I think we should start practicing for our little act, don't you?"

Before Stiles could reply, Peter had already cupped his face with his hands and pressed a kiss to his lips. Quick but firm, leaving a phantom feeling of Peter's lips behind. Stiles blinked dumbly for a moment and then reached out to pull Peter back by his shoulders. His fumbling was a little awkward but Peter went with it easily and then they were kissing again. This time, Stiles was prepared and pressed back, quickly deepening the kiss.

It was amazing to finally be so close to Peter, to feel him and touch him and of course kiss him. But after a while he reminded himself of why they were doing it. Panting a little, he pulled back reluctantly and cleared his throat. "That ought to do it," he said, his voice sounding rough and maybe a little bitter.

Peter nodded and traced the corner of Stiles' mouth with a thumb before he let his hands fall away. "I will see on you Friday, then? The big day?"

Stiles just nodded as well and replied, "Yep. And this time I'll pick you up."

Under Peter's watch, Stiles got into his jeep and turned the ignition. He saw Peter waving at him with an unreadable expression. So, Stiles waved back and drove away, his mind whirling.

*****

The big day. The big fucking day.

Since buying the suit, Stiles had had several near panic attacks, as well as long talks with himself to either just say 'Fuck it, I'm not going' or 'Fuck it, who cares what they think of me'.

He had texted with Peter obsessively, minutely changing his mind. The end result was that Peter supported him, no matter what he choose to do.

One of the last texts from Peter had been 'We don't have to go, Stiles. We can always just have a nice night by ourselves, go to dinner again and the likes. Like alternative-prom.'

That, more than anything, had led to Stiles replying, 'fuck it, we're going.’ Because he had been to alternative-prom. He had chosen to rent a hotel room with a bunch of people who either didn't care for the real prom or were fed up with not having a date or a nice suit. This time he wouldn't hide behind a 'too cool for school' attitude.

This decision had lasted for the last two days but now it was time to go and he was doubting himself once again. However, there was no time to panic because Peter was waiting for him and Stiles just wanted to see him. Maybe the nerves of seeing Peter would distract him from his nerves about the reunion.

Half an hour later, Stiles got out of the jeep when he caught side of Peter. "Holy shit, you look amazing," he blurted out, his eyes roaming over the elegant suit.

"Of course," Peter said simply and gave him a smug smile before he stepped up to him.

Stiles looked back and forth between his own black suit and the dark gray piece Peter was wearing. Underneath he had a white button-down shirt like Stiles, but Peter was also wearing a tie. It was in the same black as Stiles' suit and no, before his shopping trip with Peter, Stiles hadn't known there were different types of black.

He lightly tugged on the tie and grinned. "We even match."

"Of course we match, pet," Peter said indignantly as he straightened his tie. "Surely you didn't expect anything less?"

"How could I?" Stiles asked with fake-outrage to cover his nerves. They were standing awfully close and Stiles just wanted to throw himself into Peter's arms. Instead Peter's laugh cut through his thoughts and he finally held the door open for Peter to get into the jeep.

*

The drive was quick and filled with Stiles' babbling, though later he had hardly any memory of what he was saying.

When they parked in the lot of the community center, Stiles gave a low whistle. The place was filled with expensive cars and the jeep was looking very much out of place, even though he had it fixed up and painted a few years ago.

"They're just cars, Stiles," Peter said firmly and got out.

With a deep breath, Stiles followed him and they walked to the entrance side by side, until Peter stopped in front of the doors. "Did you want to wait for Scott?"

"Oh, yeah, good idea." After checking his phone for the time, Stiles said, "They should be here in a few minutes."

Peter nodded, and then they stood and waited. Even though the silence wasn't exactly awkward between them, Stiles felt compelled to fill it. He was about to take a breath and babble but Peter beat him to it.

"Nervous?"

Stiles shrugged and buried his hands in his pockets. "Yeah, I guess."

"Do you think we need more practice?"

"Uh, what?"

"Practice," Peter repeated and reached out to put a finger underneath Stiles' chin.

Stiles licked his lips and then nodded eagerly. Before he could move, Peter had him pinned against the wall of the building and they were kissing furiously. Shoving all his thoughts and worries away, Stiles clung to Peter's suit and let the sensations wash over him. It was one of the best kisses he had ever had and he was more turned on than he had been in a long time, his body moving shamelessly against Peter's.

"Hey, guys."

They jumped and stumbled away from each other, looking dazed. Stiles caught sight of Scott, who was grinning widely, and Allison who was biting her lips to keep from laughing out loud.

He straightened up, noticing that Peter already looked unfairly put together again, while his own heart still beat like crazy and his chub was probably noticeable from a mile away.

"Hey," he replied and cleared his throat. "Um, Peter, you remember Scott and Allison from the station's summer barbeque, right?"

"Mrs. McCall, Mr. McCall." Peter gave them a polite nod, but Scott wasn't having it. 

"I hear you're engaged. And I'm Stiles' best man, so you must call me Scott," he insisted and held his hand out to shake. Stiles grimaced and glared at Scott, but Peter took the hand and shook it easy enough.

Allison smiled and held out her hand as well. Stiles knew that she felt terrible for what her aunt had done to the Hales, and she had always wished to be able to make amends. Now his heart swelled, when he saw Peter gingerly taking her hand. "Allison," the man said carefully, causing her to smile even brighter.

"Ooookay, let's do this. The faster we get in, the quicker we can leave," Stiles said after a few moments and ushered them inside.

*

"Well, well, well, Stilinski. Who's the hottie?" a woman with big, blonde curls asked, half sitting on a table that was covered with name tags.

Stiles' mouth dropped open and Scott whispered, "Woah!"

"Peter Hale," Peter said and offered his hand for her to shake. She stood and took it, squeezing firmly before she replied, "Erica Boyd." Her face was beautifully made up and her smoky eyes only intensified her heated gaze.

"Hey, now, Erica. Leave something for me," Stiles joked weakly and pulled Peter back possessively.

Allison perked up and leaned in to hug the blonde. "Boyd? Did you marry right after high school?" Erica laughed and shook her curls. "No. Not everyone is as sure about their high school sweetheart as you. We've met again a few years ago and married this spring."

"Ooh, congratulations. Tell me all about it," Allison said and pulled her away from the others.

A woman with short, black hair stood up from behind the table and called after them, "Erica, you're supposed to help me here." Then she shook her head and turned to the men with a sigh. "Typical."

Scott just laughed and pulled her into a hug. "Hey Kira, how are you doing?" And with that they seemed to be off into their own world.

Stiles rolled his eyes and waved at Kira before he placed a hand on Peter's lower back and lead him further into the room. "When these two start going, there is no end in sight. I used to be insanely jealous of her our whole junior year when she moved to town and became Scott's second best friend."

"What about Allison?" Peter asked and leaned into Stiles' touch.

"Oh, she loved her, too! I was totally alone with my hurt feelings."

Peter made a soothing noise. "Poor, little Stiles," he said, but smirked teasingly.

"Ha ha. You're so funny." Stiles rolled his eyes and then stopped abruptly.

A tiny woman with heavy make-up stood before them, looking at them haughtily.

"Um, hey Lydia," Stiles stammered and Peter turned his head to him with a frown.

"Stiles." She gave him a nod but her gaze stayed cold. Only when she looked at Peter, her demeanor changed to slightly predatory. "And you are?"

"That's Peter. Peter Hale. My fiancé," Stiles scrambled to reply, pressing himself against Peter, who obliged him by wrapping an arm around him.

"Huh," she said, apparently impressed besides herself. Stiles knew that most people in Beacon Hills thought the Hales were loaded. And he also knew that Peter definitely made good money with his consulting firm but after struggling with money for years, Stiles had stopped being impressed by that and he certainly didn't like Lydia's reaction. Peter was amazing, and his money was not even a factor in all of that.

His thoughts were interrupted by a blond man coming up behind Lydia, pressing a kiss to her cheek.

"Jackson," she hissed furiously. "Watch my make-up."

Rolling his eyes, the man stepped back and then glared at Stiles.

"Stilinski. Perving on my girlfriend. Just like old times," he said disdainfully.

Stiles squawked and glared back. "I wasn't perving. I was just saying hello. Besides, I'm engaged!" he half-shouted and wildly gestured between Peter and his own raised hand, pointing out the ring on his finger.

The blond man made a face at both of them. "My condolences. You should know that Stilinski spent years panting after my girlfriend and-"

"Jackson," Lydia snapped. "This is Peter Hale."

Jackson started, his eyes widening. He put his hand out for Peter to shake. "I'm Jackson Whittemore. My father is Alexander Whittemore. Former states attorney, now partner at Hollowitz & Whittemore."

Peter just gave him a cold nod and stared back at him until Jackson dropped his hand. Stiles sniggered into Peter's shoulder, making Jackson glare even harder.

Deciding they had spent enough time with Jackson and even Lydia, Stiles turned his head to look at Peter. "Honey, let's get some food. I'm starving."

*

"What an unpleasant individual," Peter noted haughtily as they walked away, and Stiles hummed in agreement. But then he felt like it needed something more and added a hearty, "Jackass!"

Peter laughed and pulled Stiles closer to his side while they looked around and eventually sat down at one of the many little round tables that were spread around.

Surprisingly, the next few hours passed in a pleasant blur of eating a fancy dinner and catching up with his former year mates. And hardly any of them seemed to look down on him, which Stiles was pretty sure was due to Peter charming each and every single one of them, while talking Stiles up immensely. It had been a long time that Stiles felt that good about himself and he dreaded the moment the night would be over and he would turn back into a pumpkin. Or however that story went, he thought. Peter was definitely Prince Charming, though.

After food and drinks it got even better when people started to dance and Peter dragged Stiles onto the dance floor, despite his protests.

"I'm warning you, I'm a very bad dancer," he whined but obediently put his hand in Peter's and the other one low on his hip.

Peter just rolled his eyes and shushed him. "I told you, I can handle it."

"Brave words." Stiles laughed before Peter began to move him around to the music.

Despite his best efforts, Stiles was unable to stop thinking which caused him to stumble over his own and Peter's feet time and time again. Eventually Peter huffed and dragged both of Stiles' arms around his neck and pulled him flush against his chest. And then Stiles felt Peter wrap one arm firmly around his waist and one broad hand press against his lower back. "Just hold on, will you?" Peter ordered.

"Oh, my god." Stiles gasped from the touch and felt his face heat up before he pressed it firmly against Peter's shoulder. He hadn't noticed before, but now he saw that they were fairly even in height. It was a lovely feeling to just rest his cheek against Peter and close his eyes while they swayed to the music.

When the song eventually changed to something faster, Stiles lifted his head and locked eyes with Peter. "Did you want-" he began to say but someone bumped into him from behind and made both of them stumble.

"Watch where you're standing," Jackson hissed and Stiles turned around to him, a harsh reply on his tongue.

But Peter straightened up and beat him to it. "Mr. Whittemore, how about you spare us any more of your company tonight or I will have words with your father about your little side project."

Then he took Stiles' arm and gently pulled him to the back exit. "Let's get some air, sweetheart."

Blinking dumbly, Stiles let Peter drag him outside and instantly took a deep breath in the crisp, fresh night air. Peter watched him relax, leaning casually against the wall of the building. To Stiles he looked completely delectable and he thought about doing some more mouth-to-mouth 'practice' but then his curiosity took over.

"Okay, I gotta know. What side project?" he asked with an expectant grin. Peter was about to reply, but they were interrupted once again. Jackson was basically falling through the door, glaring hard at them both.

He pointed a finger at both of them and started shouting. "You stupid assholes." His finger was almost touching Peter's face now, but the man was quick and grabbed Jackson's hand, squeezing none too gently.

Stiles was a little shocked by the outburst and mumbled, "Get a hold of yourself, dude."

That only caused another bout of shouting and Jackson point at Stiles with his free arm. "Shut up. Like you have the right to judge me, you jerk. You're such a loser. Almost thirty and still living with daddy. Playing rent-a-cop or glorified secretary. And even that lame job you only got because everyone thought you and your dad are totally pathetic."

"Fuck you! Don't talk about my dad like that," Stiles shouted back and threw himself at Jackson. But there was barely any impact before Peter slid in between them and pushed Jackson backwards hard enough to make him stumble and land on his ass.

Peter's face was hard and angry as he stepped closer and snarled, "That's enough, Whittemore. Tomorrow I will call your father and tell him how you're using money from his company to pay off your gambling debts. Now get the hell out of here before I'll have you arrested."

Jackson glared up at them but didn't seem to dare to move. "How do you even know about this?" he asked, sounding almost meek.

"Because I'm good at my job, unlike you. And by the way, you mocking someone for getting a job through their father is completely laughable. Seeing as you fell through your bar exam three times and your father had to create a new, low-responsibility position for you because he didn't dare giving you one of the important jobs."

Seeming speechless by Peter's knowledge, Jackson just kept glaring at them before he huffed once and got up. He kept his eyes on Stiles and Peter while he slowly walked backwards until he grabbed the handle of the back door to the building. Then he whirled around and fled.

Stiles gaped after him for a few moments before he started to laugh. It was a full-body laugh and he had to hold on to Peter to keep upright.

"Oh, my god," he panted, trying to catch his breath. Then he gave Peter a bright grin. "That was priceless."

With a very smug expression, Peter returned the grin and held firmly onto Stiles. "My pleasure," he replied smoothly.

"But seriously! How did you know all that?" Stiles asked, shaking his head in amusement.

Peter simply raised an eyebrow at him. "Stiles, I'm a very good private investigator, remember?"

"I know that." Stiles poked him into the side. "I mean why did you investigate Jackson in the first place?"

And in that moment it was the first time that Stiles ever saw Peter really losing his cool and suaveness as the man opened his mouth, but nothing came out.

"Peter?" Stiles asked, torn between confusion and being amused from Peter's reaction.

Taking a deep breath, Peter looked Stiles square in the eyes. "I… may have taken the liberty to… investigate all of your year mates."

Frowning in confusion, Stiles tried to make sense of that statement. "You mean like… all of them?"

"There weren't that many," Peter tried to defend himself.

"Yes! Yes, there are! Wow." Stiles dragged a hand through his hair and stared at Peter in disbelief. "But… why?"

Peter took a deep breath. "Stiles-" he paused before he soldiered on. "I saw how this event bothered you. How afraid you were of it and of what people thought of you. I figured it would be a good idea to have some dirt on everyone, in case they tried to… I don't know… get cocky."

"Well, as Jackson demonstrated, it was a pretty good idea."

"Indeed."

"You don't have to act so smug about it," Stiles teased and lightly bumped his fist into Peter's upper arm. "Damn, it's like hitting concrete," he mumbled and rubbed his knuckles over the muscular biceps.

Laughing, Peter reached out and took Stiles' hand. This intimate gesture made Stiles' stomach flutter more than anything else tonight. All the other public displays before where just that, for the public. But now it was just the two of them, tonight's mission basically over.

"What… um..." He tried but had to clear his throat. "What else did you dig up, then?"

"Well, I know that Miss Martin keeps changing the date for their wedding, so maybe she isn't that sold on him, as she pretended earlier," Peter stated, watching Stiles' reaction. But he just shrugged and said, "She would be stupid to do it, and she was never stupid. Okay, what else?"

“Miss Yukimura is doing erotic cam shows on the side since college. First to finance her art degree and now her gallery,” Peter started to list, while Stiles’ eyebrows rose higher and higher.

“Mrs. Boyd left her first fiance at the altar. Mr. Greenberg has 95 unpaid parking tickets. Mr. Mahealani belongs to an illegal group of white hat hackers despite working for the government. And I’m sure you know about Mr. Lahey who is still on probation after attacking his abusive father. It would’ve been ruled as self-defence but he refused to go into details about his childhood. Mr. Daehler has several restraining orders by multiple women.”

And on and it went.

“Anything else about Lydia?” Stiles asked when Peter finally ran out.

“Ah, no. Her only flaw seems to be her relationship with Whittemore.”

Stiles nodded distractedly. “Same old, same old.”

He could barely believe how much time Peter must’ve invested to gather this information. For him, Stiles! It made him feel even more tingly and he thought there might even be little shred of hope. That maybe Peter liked Stiles a little. Maybe even enough to give this thing a real try? After all, he did seem to have a pretty good time kissing Stiles earlier and the other day.

Impulsively Stiles decided that finally it was time to go all or nothing. To put himself out there. To go and get it. To… to… to take a very deep breath.

"Sooo, is it just me or is this pretending-thing getting kind of old?" he asked, trying for a lighthearted tone but ending up sounding nervous.

"Oh, Stiles," Peter said and cupped his face, running a thumb over his healed cheek bone. "I have never been pretending with you."

Stiles squawked and tried to step back but hit the wall instead. "What do you mean? What about the faux-flirting, the mock-compliments, the… the fake-partner-rings?"

With an anxious expression, Peter stepped back, giving Stiles some room. "I meant every word," he said simply and shrugged.

"Oh, my god. Oh, my god!" Stiles babbled, his heart racing and his stomach clenching. Did Peter just admit that he liked him? And why did it make Stiles feel even more like a failure? He bent over and kept rambling to himself. "I'm an idiot. So stupid! How did I not get that?"

"Stiles," Peter said firmly and held him by his shoulders. "Take a deep breath."

And Stiles did, his eyes locking with Peter's. "You like me," he said in wonder after he had calmed down a little.

Peter smiled ruefully, running his hands down Stiles' arms to entwine their fingers. "I do. And you're not an idiot at all. If anything, I'm the idiot for waiting so long to tell you."

Tilting his head to the side, Stiles watched Peter thoughtfully. "Why didn't you?" he asked, gently squeezing his fingers.

"I was scared." Peter took a deep breath and stepped closer. "I haven't felt like this about someone for a long time. Maybe never."

"Oh," Stiles said weakly, feeling a blush creep into his cheeks. "Um, I'm flattered, I think."

He disentangled one of his hands and buried it in Peter's hair, pulling him closer. "I like you, too, Peter. A lot. A lot lot, actually. Like a totally crazy amount. Like…" 

He was interrupted by Peter crushing their lips together. So, going with the program, Stiles wrapped his arms around the man and deepened the kiss. But soon, Peter pulled back a little and tilted Stiles' face to the side, latching on to his neck. Stiles moaned and bucked against him when the door opened and crushed against the wall.

"Stiles, what did you do to Jackson?" Lydia demanded to know, looking furious.

He straightened up and took a few deep breaths. "Nothing he didn't deserve," he said firmly and then looked over to Peter. "Do you want to get out of here?"

With a smirk, Peter wrapped an arm around Stiles’ waist. "I thought you'd never ask," he said and led Stiles to the exit.

*

During their drive to Peter’s place, Stiles was tense as hell, gripping the wheel tightly.

“Relax, Stiles. I’m not going anywhere,” Peter teased him gently.

Laughing weakly, Stiles shrugged. “You never know. I think I’ve had this dream before.”

Peter smiled, amused, and reached out to touch Stiles’ thigh. The car swerved and Stiles cursed. 

“No, no touching,” he ordered. “I’m barely keeping it together as it is.”

Holding his hands up innocently, Peter hummed in agreement. 

After that it felt like a hundred years for them to arrive but they finally made it. 

They both scrambled out of the car and Stiles was secretly pleased that Peter seemed as affected as himself. He shamelessly pressed against Peter’s back when the man opened the door to his house, tongue sneaking out to flick against Peter’s ear.

Stiles was rewarded by a moan and a hand grabbing his suit jacket, pushing him inside and against the wall. They kissed for a few moments when Stiles remembered one particular fantasy he’d been having. Grabbing Peter, he tried to turn them around. At first Peter didn’t budge at all but eventually he let himself be moved. Stiles pressed him against the wall and reached down to quickly open Peter’s belt and zipper with nimble fingers.

“Someone’s eager,” Peter teased but his voice sounded rough and Stiles laughed.

“Well, yeah! I’ve been dying to get on my knees for you since the first time I saw you come into the station. Your pants were so tight, I thought they would bust at the seams. Hoped they would, actually.”

With that he did drop to his knees, pulling Peter’s suit pants and underwear down with him. Then he reached out and reverently ran his fingertips over Peter’s half-hard cock.

“Hey, beautiful,” he murmured and Peter laughed, his head thrown back.

Stiles looked up at him with a wide grin before he wrapped a hand around the shaft. He hadn’t gone to college very long but if it had taught him one thing, it was how to suck dick. And he’s loved doing it ever since. 

So, now he opened his mouth and took Peter inside, rubbing the head of his cock all over his tongue. He hummed at the taste of pre-come and the feeling of Peter’s cock growing to full hardness. The more Stiles tongued at it, the longer and thicker it go. Eventually Stiles felt the head of it bump at his throat and he finally started to suck in earnest. 

Peter moaned loudly and tangled his fingers into Stiles’ hair. “Such a pretty boy, sucking me so well,” he whispered and Stiles moaned right back at him. Usually these kind of lines would sound cheesy but somehow with Peter it was just so freaking hot. Upping his game, he sucked harder and then tried to take Peter’s cock even deeper, past his gag reflex. Stiles choked a little but the excited twitching of Peter inside his mouth made it worth it. Repeating his motions over and over, Stiles felt like he could lose himself in this but then Peter suddenly stopped him. 

“Come on, sweetheart. I want you naked in my bed.”

Stiles jumped up, not needing to be told twice. He grinned at Peter and took his hand. 

“Lead the way,” he ordered and Peter did.

They fell on the bed in a tangle of limbs, kissing wildly. Stiles fumbled first Peter’s suit jacket open and then his shirt, revealing his muscular chest, covered in a smatter of chest hair. Impatiently he tugged the rest of the fabric off and ran his fingers over Peter’s neck tattoo and then the piece that wrapped around his whole left upper arm. A colorful scene, showing a few wolves that were running around in a bright green forest. 

“Fuck, I love your tats,” he moaned and latch his mouth to the one on Peter’s neck.

While Stiles was busy with more sucking, Peter reached out and quickly rid Stiles of his clothes and himself from his pants and shoes. Then he pulled Stiles to lie on top of him and grabbed his ass cheeks, squeezing tightly. Stiles let out a noise between a moan and a squeak and Peter laughed again. At hearing Peter’s laugh, Stiles stopped trying to suck a hickey into the neck tattoo and looked up into Peter’s eyes.

“Is it always like this? When you’re in love?” he asked quietly, his eyes bright.

Peter’s cheeks seemed to flush a little at the question but he shrugged. “I wouldn’t know.”

Stiles smiled and leaned in for another kiss. Peter obliged but also kept squeezing Stiles’ ass before one hand wandered between them, rubbing at Stiles’ cock. It made Stiles moan and buck into the hand and then they kept kissing and rubbing themselves on each other. After a few minutes the hand on Stiles’ ass wandered further down and lightly traced over his hole. Stiles gasped and looked up.

“You want to?” Peter asked, sounding surprisingly unsure of himself.

Laughing, Stiles pushed himself up and against Peter’s finger. “Hell, yeah, I want to.”

So, Peter pulled back and Stiles whined at the loss. Peter shushed him teasingly and leaned to the bedside table, pulling open a drawer. He took out lube and a condom, placing the latter to the side. 

While Peter uncapped the lube and warmed it up between his fingers, Stiles rolled onto his stomach and prepped himself with a pillow under his hips. His gaze fell onto the condom, right when Peter spread his cheeks, to rub against his hole.

“You know,” he began to say but had to moan when Peter pressed the tip of one finger inside. “When this is a thing that we keep doing, then maybe we could get ahh-” Peter was sliding one finger inside to the knuckle, making Stiles cry out. He leaned over Stiles’ back and began trailing kisses over his spine. 

“I certainly hope, this is a “thing” that we’ll keep doing. Exclusively,” he growled and twisted his finger to spread the lube around.

“Yes,” Stiles hissed and then added quickly, “I mean, yes. I want that. Oh, god, keep going.”

Smiling against Stiles’ lower back, Peter took more lube on a second finger and pulled out before shoving both fingers back inside. “You were saying?” he said teasingly against Stiles’ skin.

“What? Oh, uh.. I was saying that we could get tested. And do this bare in the future.”

Peter above him paused, his fingers stuck deep inside Stiles’ ass. 

“You would trust me like that?” he asked, sounding coarse.

Carefully rolling to his side, to not lose Peter’s fingers, Stiles turned his head to look at Peter. 

“Yes, you idiot. Of course I trust you like that. Especially after what you did for me tonight and the past few days.”

Instead of a reply, Peter pressed himself against Stiles’ back and kissed him as deeply as possible in their current position. At the same time, he shoved his fingers deeper and rotated them until Stiles cried out, indicating that Peter had found his prostate. 

After kissing Stiles a few more minutes, Peter began to move his lips over Stiles’ cheek to his neck where he began to alternate between kisses and light bites. The louder Stiles got from the fingering, the harder Peter’s bites became. His own cock was pressing against Stiles’ thigh and he rutted against him until Stiles cried out.

“Wait. Please, I’m about to come but I want you inside me. Peter, please.” 

It took a few breaths, but they both calmed down enough for Peter straighten up and pull his fingers out.

“Do you want another finger?” he asked while rubbing more lube around Stiles’ hole. 

Stiles shook his head and got on all fours. Then he reached for the condom and opened it before handing it to Peter.

“I want to feel the stretch but you’ll have to so slow at first.”

Rolling on the condom, Peter nodded. “I can do that. I think.”

Grinning back at him, Stiles stuck out his ass and wriggled it a little. Peter clucked his tongue and gave it a light swat. “Cheeky.”

“Yes,” Stiles said and laughed. “Literally.” He was about to add more but then Peter pushed in. Despiting going slow, it was a big stretch that took Stiles’ breath away. 

“Oh, fuck, fuck, fuck.” Pressing his face into the pillow, he panted harshly. It didn’t help that Peter leaned over him, one arm on Stiles’ hip and one next to his head on the bed.

“Just take a deep breath,” he advised and when Stiles did, Peter squeezed his hip and pushed in to the hilt. Stiles was about to cry out but then Peter’s hand loosened and suddenly the pain was all better and Stiles felt like floating. Then Peter pulled back a little only to push back in even harder.

“Yes, oh, god. Fuck, yes. Just like that,” Stiles began to babble and Peter kept going, fucking him in long, deep strokes. His mouth found Stiles’ neck again and he pressed his teeth in just enough to ache a bit.

“You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to have you underneath me like this,” he whispered and licked at Stiles skin. “How long I wanted to just fucking take you.”

Growling, he gave another quick nip and then raised himself, gripping Stiles’ hips with both hands. 

“Fuck you like this,” he hissed and began to speed up.

“Oh, god.” Stiles’ fingers gripped tightly into the sheet as he moaned and panted. “So fucking good. Please don’t ever stop.”

Peter gripped him tighter, wrapping one hand around his waist to pull him up.  
“Never,” he whispered urgently and pressed Stiles flush against his chest. “Not now, that I finally got you.”

He licked over Stiles’ shoulder again, up to his neck where he gave him another nip, once, twice, three times. Then one hand snuck around and gripped Stiles’ hard cock tightly. Stiles bucked wildly at the touch and he dug his fingers into Peter’s other arm that was now wrapped around his chest. 

“Yes! Oh, fuck, yes,” Stiles shouted and threw his head back against Peter’s shoulder while he was fucked relentlessly. Peter snapped his hips so fast, pushing in and out of Stiles in a blur while somehow managing to give Stiles’ cock a good squeeze every time it was pushed up inside his hand. 

“I’m going to come, Peter. I’m so fucking close.”

Peter growled at Stiles’ words and sank his teeth deep into the spot between Stiles’ neck and shoulder, biting hard. The mix of pain from the bite and pleasure from Peter hitting him just right, sent Stiles over the edge with a scream. His body bucked and his limbs thrashed from the force of his orgasm but Peter held him steady, fucking him through it.

While Stiles’ body lost all tension, Peter held him firm, his teeth locked in Stiles’ neck. He made rumbling and panting noises against Stiles’ skin and kept fucking up into him. Stiles whined and tried to bat Peter’s hand away from his spent cock but Peter didn’t budge. Holding on tightly, he pushed as deep inside of Stiles as he could and came with a muffled roar. 

Stiles felt Peter empty himself inside him and silently bemoaned the need for a condom. He had never been fond of going bareback but somehow it held quite the appeal with Peter. Pandering that thought, he was roused from it when Peter pulled out and gently lowered Stiles down onto the sheets. 

With a sigh, Stiles stretched and rolled around to watch Peter tying off the condom before he laid down as well. Stiles immediately pulled him close, kissing him, soft and slow. 

“That was amazing,” Stiles said, giving Peter a tired smile. “Even better than I always imagined.”

Returning the smile, Peter brushed a thumb against Stiles’ lip. 

“You are amazing,” he replied simply and Stiles moaned deeply from embarrassment. 

“Nooo, don’t go all cheesy on me now, Peter.” 

While Peter was laughing, he grabbed Stiles and rolled him around, pulling Stiles’ back flush against his chest. 

Stiles let out an exaggerated gasp. “Oh, my god. Are we spooning? We’re spooning.” 

“Yes, we’re spooning. Deal with it,” Peter ordered and tangled his fingers with Stiles’.  
Then he pulled Stiles’ wrist to his mouth, pressing a light kiss to the pulse point.

"Hey, that tickles," Stiles complained and tried to pull his arm away. Peter held him close, though, so he gave up. 

A few moments later he yawned before he suddenly yelped, as Peter playfully bit into the meaty part of his wrist, just beneath his pulse.

“Dude! What’s with the biting? If I didn’t know better I’d think you were a werewolf or something,” he teased, for a moment imagining how cool that would be.

The arms around him tightened, even though Peter kept gently running his lips over the bite. Despite the sting, Stiles decided, he liked the feeling. A lot.

Then, just before he fell asleep, Stiles heard Peter whisper, “Maybe I am.” 

FIN

**Author's Note:**

> *There's some bullying from Jackson during the reunion. 
> 
> *The titel is from the song Rose's Turn, from the musical Gypsy (but my favorite version is sung by Kurt Hummel in Glee).
> 
>  
> 
> [Inspiration for the neck tattoo](https://s-media-cache-ak0.pinimg.com/originals/60/42/f0/6042f01cbf407e7c553819b16c8e957e.gif)


End file.
